


The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

by the_irish_mayhem



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, holiday smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5498552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_irish_mayhem/pseuds/the_irish_mayhem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane and Thor do Christmas. (Finally.)</p><p>Tis the season for holiday smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> It’s here. The Christmas smut I’ve been talking about and giggling over because honestly Christmas just lends itself so well to smutty puns. I also fudged the MCU timeline just a little.

They’re bad at holidays.

If it’s anyone’s fault, though, Jane would probably blame Thor. Apparently, villains don’t like to take holidays off.

The first year that they were together, SHIELD called Thor in to standby on the Mandarin if Tony couldn’t figure it out.

Her mom had been disappointed, but she handed Jane the small box wrapped in silver and red paper and told her to give it to him when he got back. It wasn’t that she didn’t like spending time with her family. She’d just kind of had high hopes for this year.

She tried to wait up for him that night, but ended up falling asleep on the couch in the light of their miniature Christmas tree that was all they’d had time for.

When he arrived home, he didn’t wake her, just carried her to bed. They exchanged gifts in the morning hours of the 26th. It wasn’t bad or anything, it was fun and silly and she stuck one of those sticky bows on his head and that was all he wore while he made them breakfast (and what a Merry Christmas _that_ was.)

But then the holidays were gone again, and they’d barely had time to drink anything but a glass of virgin eggnog.

The entire holiday season last year, and most of the spring months, were sunk into the war against Thanos. (That year, no one had worried about having holidays. Everyone was just worried about having a world to live in after it ended.)

So this year, when there’s a quiet spell in the months leading up to December, Jane is determined to not get her hopes up. She tries to not be sentimental, but it’s been a long time since she’s gotten to celebrate any sort of holiday with a significant other. And Thor is probably her _most significant_ significant other, too, and that seems to be worth celebrating. Instead of making a fuss, she just drags out their little tree, sets it on the window sill like they always do, and continues about her day.

A few days ago, they were on the couch, Jane absentmindedly perusing her latest datasets with Thor’s head in her lap. She was far more focused on running her fingers through his hair than the numbers that she’d already looked over three times that day.

“Jane?”

“Hm?”

“I need to leave for Asgard tomorrow. I should only be gone for a week’s time.”

“Odin kicking up a fuss?”

He shook his head under her hand. “Just wants me home. Make sure the public sees me. It’s good for civilian morale to see their prince. I’d also like to check in with the Einherjar. I’m certain Sif and Hogun are doing just fine commanding without me, but…”

“You still feel responsible for your people.” He nods against her. “I understand.” The timing makes her pause. “When will you be back?”

“I’m hopeful for Christmas Eve,” he tells her.

“Hopeful?” she asks, trying to not let the delicate feelings of positivity she’d had in her chest deflate.

“You know my father. He sometimes finds reasons to keep me as long as he pleases.” He sits up. “I’m sorry, but this seemed like an opportune time, with you travelling to Korea this week--”

“No, no, you’re right. It’s a good time.”

And that’s that. She leaves for the conference and lecture in Korea. She’s delighted to meet Thor’s friend, Dr. Helen Cho, who goes out of her way to attend Jane’s lecture out of kindness (because biology and astrophysics couldn’t have less in common) and the two share a delightful lunch together. Being involved with superheroes gives them a lot of common ground. (And Jane can’t pretend to not be interested that Helen quite literally created Vision. The superhero android. And if that isn’t fascinating to hear about, Jane doesn’t know what is.)

She does get a very odd phone call from Tony just after she arrives at Incheon International Airport, though. (It should have been her first clue that something was off.)

She sees the caller ID, and her mind jumps briefly to a worst case scenario before she remembers Thor’s in Asgard.

“Tony?”

“Hey, Chell, how’s Korea?”

“I just got here?” Her confusion makes it come out as a question.

“Great, great to hear.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love our chats, but is there a particular reason you’re calling me right now? I’ve got to go get checked in to my hotel. The university is expecting me.”

“Yeah, of course, of course. Just one super quick question and I’ll let you go teach people about the wonders of the universe that spit out Thunder Cats right in front of your car.”

“Okay, shoot,” she says, figuring it’ll be a quick question about her thoughts on a particular piece of tech or a physics problem he’s thinking about.

“What religion are you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You know, religion. Catholic? Hindu? You give off some strong Lutheran vibes, sometimes. Jehovah’s Witness? Salvation Army? Just please tell me you’re not a Tom Cruise Alien Religion person. Are you?”

“I… uh, my parents are Jewish, I guess, but I haven’t practiced since I was a kid and they’re not exactly devout. I’ve sort of done the Christmas thing since grad school, but other than that, no religion of any kind. What is this even about?”

“Pep was wondering. Wanted to know if she should send you the card with the tree or the menorah.”

“Okay?”

“So… tree or menorah?”

“I… I have no preference?”

“All right, I’ll let the madame know. Oh, I lied, one more quick question. I’m messing with the machine we built and I know you like to set the pneumatics to 1.2, but I’m thinking of going wild and setting it at a 1.4. Thoughts?”

Her brow furrows. “1.4 will blow the system. 1.3 might be okay if we needed that kind of power output, but right now it’s barely holding together when we push her past the beacon settings. If you go higher than a 1.3 I will find you and skin you. I don’t care that it’s Christmas.”

“Jeez, no need to jump down my throat. I’ll be careful.”

“Tony,” she says warningly.

“Okay, okay. I won’t go above 1.3. If you insist. I’ll see you when you’re back stateside, right?”

“Sure. Just let me know the results of pumping up the pneumatics on the machine goes, will you?”

He laughs. “Sure thing, Chell. Merry Christmas.”

That should’ve been an indicator that something was afoot, but Jane is suddenly wrapped up in thinking about the pneumatic settings she forgets all the talk about holidays.

She arrives back at London-Heathrow around eleven o’clock on Christmas Eve with thoughts of her bed and hoping that Thor was there to share it with her. (She shoots a quick text to his phone letting him know that she’d landed safely, but she has no way of knowing if he’ll get it, considering she doesn’t know if he’d yet returned from Asgard.)

The city was quiet, and a few sloppy flakes fell from the sky but didn’t stick to the wet ground. A taxi took her back to her and Thor’s place, and she was hoping to be showered and wrapped up in bed by midnight.

She paid the driver and stumbled into the elevator. Jet lag was starting to hit her, and she started debating the merits of skipping the shower.

She arrives at her floor, and if she had been less tired, she probably would’ve noted that the festive wreath was not hanging on the outside of her door when she left.

Instead, she just unlocks her door, and finally notices something is amiss.

The darkness of her apartment is being cut through by something in her living room, just beyond her sightline in her entryway, and she can smell pine and burning candlewax.

Her curiosity is piqued now, and she toes off her shoes and drops her bag near the door to investigate.

And she finds Thor, standing in the middle of the room with a huge grin on his face and a santa hat on his head.

There’s a proper tree, real and fragrant and probably dropping pine needles everywhere, with a tree skirt and it’s wrapped in multicolored lights and adorned with more ornaments than she knew she had.

There’s a menorah on the coffee table, each of the candles lit and she’s absolutely certain that they’ve been going for far longer than is prescribed and Hanukkah ended something like ten days ago and they’re all lit even though she hadn’t said a single prayer or blessing.

It’s just… it’s thoughtful and sweet and just everything she never knew she wanted and she feels emotion rising in her throat. “Thor?” she manages.

“Happy holidays, my love.”

“I thought… how did you…?”

“I decided to do something for you. I will admit, I cannot entirely claim credit. I did ask for some help while I was away, but my presence on Asgard was not required for long.”

The pieces fall into place. “Tony. I should’ve known something was off about that call.”

He nods. “Natasha and Clinton were also very happy to help. They’re surprisingly festive.”

She breathes out. “Thank you. Thank you for this.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

She crosses the room, but before she takes him and kisses the life out of him, she says, “Hold on. There’s something I need to do first.”

She’d never consider herself devout, even when she was younger, but she didn’t want to leave the menorah burning and not at least say a prayer. She takes the shamash candle, says a half-remembered blessing from the few times she’d heard her mom and dad do it, and figures that God probably appreciates the thought even if the execution is a little shaky.

“The beauty of Midgard’s languages never fail to astound me,” Thor observes quietly.

“It’s Hebrew, and I don’t think I got half the words right.”

“Sounded lovely to me,” he says as he approaches her.

“Why did you do all this? You didn’t have to…”

“My fellow Avengers were talking about how the past few years we’ve been busy during some of Midgard’s major holidays.” He hugs her from behind, and she leans back into him as he says, “I know you’re disappointed when we can’t celebrate together. You never say it, but I can tell. I love being a part of your life, and I want to know all the parts of your life. Holiday celebrations included.”

Yeah, the kissing him silly needs to commence or she is going to spontaneously combust. She turns in his arms, lifting as high as she can and pulling his head down to meet his lips.

His hands move from her waist to tangle in her hair, to cup a cheek, run tantalizingly along the nape of her neck. He angles his head to deepen the kiss, and the pom from his hat brushes along her cheek. They both know exactly how this is going to end, and quite frankly, Jane couldn’t be more pleased. Jet lag is suddenly the furthest thing from her mind.

She shuffles closer to him, unable to find a place to stand where she was close enough to the heat radiating from his body. He picks up this cue, not breaking the kiss as his hands slide tantalizingly down her back and underneath the curse of her ass before lifting her into his arms. To him, her weight is wildly insignificant and he carries her like she weighs nothing, but his gentleness and care belie his utter strength.

She’s about to wrap her legs around his waist when he lowers them onto the couch so that she’s seated in his lap. She can feel the half hard ridge of him through his jeans and he breaks away from her lips with a moan when her hips begin to subtly rock over his.

He trails kisses from the corner of her mouth to her ear, where he murmurs roughly, “Perhaps now would be an opportune time for me to unwrap my present.”

It takes her a few seconds to get what he says before she snorts out a laugh, burying her head in his shoulder. She tilts her head just enough so that she doesn’t speak into his shirt. “How long have you been waiting to use that line?”

“The better part of the last fortnight,” he admits as the tips of his fingers begin to dance beneath the edge of her sweater.

She laughs again, the thought of Thor holding back his eagerness too much for her already giddy mood. She leans back and lifts her arms over her head. “What are you waiting for?”

He grins that predatory grin of his, god, just Merry Christmas. Happy belated Hannukah. She can’t think of any gift that could top this.

He yanks her sweater up and over her head, tossing it somewhere behind the couch but Jane’s not watching because she’s far too wrapped up in the way his eyes explore her exposed torso. She wishes she would’ve worn nicer lingerie than this gray cotton one, but she celebrates that at least her underwear is matching.

Thor doesn’t seem to mind. One of his hands traces up to her chest from her belly button, the backs of his fingers grazing gently over her skin until he cups one of her breasts in his hand.

She leans in to kiss away that intense look in his eye, but his hand at her hip stills her. With a quirked brow and a smirk he tells her, “I’m not done yet.”

His hand tightens on her breast, and he plucks at her nipple through the fabric. She tilts her head backwards, soft breaths of pleasure slipping past her lips.

Then his fingers are dancing across the shoulder straps and then down to the clasp. He doesn’t quite have the one handed thing down yet, and as much as him tearing her clothing off of her thrills her to the toes, bras are expensive. When he leans forward to bring his other arm behind her, he licks heavily, sloppily over her collar bones, and her bra pops free.

She helps him be rid of it, and then his scruff is scratching down her chest to the valley between her breasts. He kisses her nipples before pulling back, weighing each in his palm and saying, “Norns be good, but you are perfect. I haven’t seen you in so long. Tasted you in so long…” he trails off as he leans forward and captures a nipple is his mouth. As he sucks, his tongue flicks over the sensitized, hardened peak.

He’s still wearing that ridiculous hat, but she has no intention of taking it off, so she just carefully cups the back of his head, holding him to her chest as she feels herself starting to grow wet.

She giggles again when she looks down because she’s literally getting pleasured by a sexy Santa.

He releases her with a lewd pop, the spit he left behind cooling and making her nipple harden further. “Am I not pleasing you, milady?”

“No, no,” she insists, but she’s still giggly. “This is just very, very funny to me.”

“May I ask why?” His hands begin rubbing up and down her sides, skating over her ribs and down to her hip bones, then back up again.

“Santa is normally old.”

“I have been alive for nearly two millennia. For Midgardians, that is certainly old.”

“I guess, but I’m talking old by any standard. With wrinkles. And white hair. And a really bushy white beard.” Now that she thinks about it, Thor could definitely be considered sexy chic Santa. Super old? Check. Beard? Check. Generally in a good mood? Jane can probably put a check there. Enthusiastic about Christmas? Apparently.

“Perhaps I am a modern Santa Claus,” he responds, voicing her thoughts, “Here to fulfill all your holiday wishes.”

That makes her laugh again, and she leans back in to kiss him. “God, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He bumps up into her with his hips and gently pushes her backwards, encouraging her to stand, which she does because she likes where this is going and she’s definitely not going to get all the holiday wishes he was talking about with her pants still on.

“Though you are the only present I can ever say I’ve unwrapped,” he says slowly as he unbuttons her jeans and drags the zipper down, “I think I can confidently say that you have set a precedent that will never be matched.”

He leaves her underwear as they both remove her jeans from the equation, and he brackets her hips with his hands to keep her standing. He noses at the elastic of her panties and she can feel how wet she is by how the fabric shifts against her sensitive skin. He must be able to smell her arousal because he grins up at her. “You look marvelous with the lights decorating your skin, my love.”

She notices for the first time that the lights from the Christmas tree are splashed across her skin, painting her skin in a random pattern of primary colors.

She bites her lip. “I want to see how you look in the lights,” she says as her hand fists in the fabric of his shirt. “I want to unwrap my present, too.”

He smiles at her again, kissing just above the elastic before saying, “If you wish it. I did promise to fulfill all of those, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Oh I wish it. I wish it badly.” She tugs at his shirt and eventually succeeds in getting it off him. He loses his hat in the process, but she puts it back on his head before she throws the shirt away.

“Have a bit of a fantasy about fucking Santa?” Thor suggests, and it’s so ludicrous that she laughs again and she settles back over his lap, her feet dangling off the edge of the sofa.

“Not Santa, exactly. But I must admit, I’m definitely partial to you when you’re in a… giving mood.”

They settle back into wandering hands and heated kisses. Their hips slowly but firmly rut into each other despite the layers of fabric between them, and their breathing grows heavier and their moans louder and less intentional with each minute that passes.

“Should we-- bedroom?” Jane manages between kisses, and Thor moans a negative sound.

“Not decorated in there,” he says as he kisses her neck. “More festive out here.”

“I think Santa can make it festive wherever he wants.”

He pulls back, a salacious look on his face when he brings his hand to her clothed center and rubs into her wetness. “Even here?”

She shudders against him, and her body automatically lifts higher to accommodate his hand. She’s so slick; he must be able to feel how wet she is through the cotton. “Especially there,” she manages after he makes a deft, light pass over her clit.

“Can Santa have a wish on Christmas?” he asks after a few moments.

She nods, her voice caught somewhere in her throat at the moment.

He looks like he’s up to something when he nods behind her. She looks over her shoulder to where one of their armchairs is facing the glowing Christmas tree. “Sit in the chair for me and spread your legs.” He must feel her shudder, must feel the heated way her breath rushes out of her lungs, because he winks and adds, “It’s about time I enjoy my present, wouldn’t you agree?”

He helps her stand, and she doesn’t even feel remotely embarrassed about her haste to do as he asked. Jane can hear him behind her, and she takes care to sit slowly, to spread her legs as seductively and gracefully as she can.

Her panties are sticky, her inner thighs slick, and she wriggles in place as Thor steps around her, dropping to his knees between her parted thighs. He’s the kind of guy who loves his eye contact, and the way that those electric blues track her face makes her whine in anticipation.

His large hands slide up the outside of her thighs, caressing the skin until he reaches behind her. His mischievous grin is the only warning she gets when he grips her ass and yanks her forward so that she’s just barely resting on the cushion. His face is about even with her dripping pussy, still hidden by the wet cotton.

One hand stays under her, kneading her ass firmly, while the other creeps up to the front of her torso, and she squirms the closer he gets to where she needs him. She grips the leather of the chair harder and breathes a sigh of relief when his fingers pull the crotch of her panties away from her core, exposing her to the air and his hungry gaze. “Look at you,” he breathes. His other hand abandons her ass to run quickly through her folds. “So wet and messy for me,” she tells her as his finger trails the evidence up her torso and then around one of her nipples. He ‘hm’s in contemplation, and dear god is he hot when he gets all methodical with her. “I’d like to take these off you,” he says, releasing the cotton and letting it snap back into place, “but it would be a shame to ruin such a lovely chair.” He moves closer to her core, his hot breath making her hips twitch. Both of his hands come to her hips, holding her in place. “Are you going to ruin this chair?”

She lets out a moan that could be a yes, or a no, or a plea, or fucking Russian for all she knew. One of her hands twines into his hair beneath the hat, her fingers pressing against his scalp none too gently.

“I think you are,” he continues, slipping his fingers under the waistband to incrementally move them down. “I think that no matter what happens next year, if we’re here, or if we’re apart… You’re going to remember this.” The panties are midway down her thighs, and he doesn’t stop. “You’re going to look at this chair and remember how we looked. You’re going to remember exactly how wet you are. You’re going to remember every second of everything I do to you,” he finishes, tossing her panties towards the tree and then lifting her knees over his shoulders. He doesn’t waste any more time after that.

He usually likes to set a slow, lazy pace. He likes to tease her until she’s begging for him, likes to watch as she writhes in exquisite agony above him. He likes to have the power to drive her as slowly or as quickly as he likes towards that blinding peak of pleasure.

Today is one of the days where he just dives in and leaves no survivors and thank god he does because the ache had become unbearable. He spreads her folds with his fingers, finding her clit with his lips and tongue. He laps and sucks in turn, being just rough enough to set her on fire. He dips down to her opening every now and again, laving across it in wide strokes that nearly have her laughing again because he’s trying to keep their fucking chair clean. And oh god, it actually is a fucking chair now and that nearly makes her laugh again because she’s just so goddamn giddy because Thor is here, moaning and eating her out with a Santa hat on in the light of the Christmas tree.

She doesn’t actually have a thing for Santa, but she’s careful to not knock the hat off with her hand threaded into his hair. She likes that she can see the lights splashed across his back, and when she leans back further she can look at the tree.

Jane’s so worked up, it feels like no time at all that she’s starting to chase that edge. He doesn’t hold her hips, letting her work her pussy against his face. His beard is scraping against her skin and leaving marks on her thighs, but everything just feels good right now, but it’s not enough to push her over, only make her climb higher.

His tongue abandons her clit as he begins to push his tongue deeper inside her. Just enough to feel amazing, not enough to satisfy. One of his hands smooths over her thigh and to her center, the tip of his pointer finger circling her sensitive nub.

“Thor,” she breathes out. “Thor, please.”

“Yes?” he answers cheekily from below.

“You need to--” she cuts herself off with a whine as he presses hard once over her clit.

“What’s that, my love?” he asks cheekily, “Things not to your liking?”

“Your fingers and you tongue, switch them,” she asks.

Her hand slips off his head as he leans back, expression positively filthy. “Wishing for something a bit bigger and harder in you, then?”

Her response is halfway between a giggle and a moan because he’s not wrong and hearing him say it is ten shades of hot so she nods eagerly. She sees one of his hands dart to the waist of his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping to relieve the pressure of his arousal.

“I did promise to fulfill all your wishes,” he says, hand returning to her, and she doesn’t get a chance to respond because he drives his middle finger into her without any respite and the sound she makes is long, loud, high pitched, and would be embarrassing if he didn’t look so wrecked by it.

He doesn’t back off the pace he’d set earlier as he settles his lips over her clit again, giving it to her hard enough to make heady sparks of pleasure shoot up her spine to her nipples.

A second finger joins the first, a bit slower (he doesn’t want to hurt her, after all, and his hands are big) but just as insistent. She wants to throw her head back, wants to close her eyes and just enjoy the ride but watching him is too much of a treat for her to pass up.

She loves to listen to him, loves to watch him. He makes these thick, indulgent noises--moans, whines, the drag of his breath through his nose--and he just looks so fucking into it so she fights to keep her eyes on him.

“Touch yourself,” he commands against her slick flesh. She does what he asked, her hands moving from the arm rests to clutch her breasts, squeezing and rolling, and she knows exactly how much Thor loves to watch her touch herself because he lets out a loud, fucking _pornographic_ groan and that is what tips her past the point of no return.

The pleasure sparks through her, and Thor doesn’t stop, working her through her orgasm to make it last as long as possible.

He eventually withdraws his fingers and lips, wiping his face of her wetness with a hard kiss to the inside of her thigh.

She’s still breathing hard when he pushes himself up with his hands on the arm rests until he’s looming over her, their foreheads just barely brushing.

“That felt more like a present to me, if we’re being honest,” Jane says and Thor chuckles.

“It pleases me to see you happy.”

Jane bites her lip as she reaches for his cock, swollen and hard for her. “I can tell.”

He grunts as her fingers circle him, stroking lightly. “Fuck,” he breathes quietly, and Jane loves it when he squeezes his eyes shut and thrusts lightly into her hand.

Something pops into her head in that moment, and she can’t help but share it. “Is Santa ready to slide down my chimney?”

Thor’s eyes open, his jaw falling open in abject delight. “Did you just…?”

“I did,” she said proudly, trying not to laugh herself.

She fails a few moments later when Thor begins to laugh, but it’s silenced quickly when he lunges forward, capturing her lips in a heated kiss.

Her hand is jostled off of his cock as he scoops her up quickly, walks the few steps to the couch, and deposits her on her back. Thor shucks his jeans and boxer briefs with no fanfare, and Jane parts her thighs for him, inviting him to lay on top of her.

He grinds down against her, his cock sliding through her folds, the ridge of the head dragging against her clit just right.

She’s trying to think of another Christmas pun to goad him into taking her--something about the North Pole?--but he sinks into her before she can complete the thought.

He sets a slow pace as he works inside of her, taking care that she’s well adjusted before he begins to move quicker. Thor encourages her to wrap her legs around him, and she tries hard to just enjoy the ride, because what an amazing ride it is, but she wants more and deeper and harder.

He notices, meets her gaze, and tells her quite seriously, “Turn over.”

That sends a shot of arousal through her, but she can’t help but ask cheekily, “Santa taking something for himself, then?”

He grins back as he pulls out, and watches her carefully as she arranges herself on her stomach. She throws a come hither look over her shoulder, and he leans forward, his lips and breath brushing against her ear, “You like it just as much as I do.” He kisses her cheek sweetly, chastely, entirely at odds with how one of his hands pushes beneath her to cup her cunt.

Jane pushes her hips up, propping herself up on her knees, and when he thrusts in again, it’s with barely any resistance because she’s so wet and needy.

His hand is still on her pussy, his palm grinding into her clit. His fingers reach all the way back to where they’re joined, and the idea that he’s feeling where he’s thrusting into her makes her groan into the cushions.

“We feel so good,” he tells her moments later.

She whines, thrusting back into him and making the fire burning under her skin even hotter. “Fuck, just like that,” she pants. “So close, please--”

His hips move harder, faster against hers, the palm against her clit rubbing against her, and then she’s gone.

Jane can barely keep track of the words and sounds spilling out of her mouth, but she doesn’t want to because the pleasure zinging through her body. Thor bends over her, his solid torso molding to her back, as her orgasm trips his and he goes stiff against her. His teeth are on her shoulder and the sounds spilling out of him match her own.

The moment stretches out, lazy and good, as they slowly come back to themselves. Jane’s ears are ringing in the best of ways as she eases herself back down on her stomach. Thor’s hand moves from between her thighs to wrap around her belly. He tenses as though to move off of her, but she reaches back, grabs a hip to hold him against her. “Just a minute.” He’s heavy, but in the moments after an orgasm it feels more like comfort than smothering.

She feels him smile against her shoulder as he half-heartedly thrusts against her hips. His softening cock is still inside her, and she gasps as her sensitive flesh pulls around him. She takes a few moments to enjoy the feeling of him still in her until she lets him go.

He pulls out, and she feels their combined releases dripping out of her. “We should shower,” she suggests.

He makes a soft noise of agreement as he kisses the top of her head. “I received some gingerbread body wash as a gift from Dr. Banner. Shall we make use of it?”

They shower, but are both too spent to do much more than kiss and touch without the desire to come.

It’s nice. One of the nicest holidays Jane’s had in awhile. They curl up in bed once they’re both dry and smelling of gingerbread bodywash when Thor asks, “And how was your holiday, milady?”

Dozens of positive expletives shoot to the forefront of her mind, but she decides to tease him instead. “You know, you got pretty much everything... except the mistletoe.”

He smirks, teasing right back. “There’s always tomorrow.”


End file.
